


a glimpse, a gleam, a chance

by wafflelate



Category: Dreaming of Sunshine - Silver Queen
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Gardens, Captured Together, Exciting People You Meet In Prison, F/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflelate/pseuds/wafflelate
Summary: "Hey," says the girl later. "Let's bust out together."Anko doesn't really trust this offer, but it's not like she's likely to get a better one. And staying isn't an option. Not if Anko wants to keep all her fingers.





	a glimpse, a gleam, a chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pepperdoken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepperdoken/gifts).

"Aoba?" Anko hisses when there's the sound of cloth shifting in the cell next to her. Anko's not prone to bouts of anxiety, but she finds that her heart is in her throat, her breathing stopped — she can't even decide if she wants it to be Aoba, but she wants to _know_. Did he get away? Is Anko alone? Did he leave her behind? 

It surprises her, but she wants him to have left her behind without a thought. She wants to believe he's gone home, that he wasn't captured, that he's safe and well. He never would have, but she wants it. 

There's another sound, the rasp of someone moving to sit up or something against the rough concrete of the cell. "No," says the voice of a young girl after a significant pause. "Sorry." 

Anko's shoulders slump. 

At least Aoba is getting home. 

* * *

"Hey," says the girl later. "Let's bust out together." 

Anko doesn't really trust this offer, but it's not like she's likely to get a better one. And staying isn't an option. Not if Anko wants to keep all her fingers. 

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Anko says doubtfully, even as she ties the scrap of cloth around the bars of her cell. It's a piece of Amago's shirt with a seal scribbled onto it with Amago's blood. Actually using this seal made by some random teenager is definitely at the top of the list of dumbest things Anko's ever done, but they're not exactly overflowing with other options. 

"It should work," Amago promises. "Just put chakra into it and stand back." 

Anko's probably going to die anyway, so... might as well. She sparks chakra into the seal on the cloth and then hobbles to the back of her cell on her sprained ankle. 

As promised, the seal doesn't explode. There's a soft _whump_ and a gust of air so chill that Anko's skin almost burns, and... that's it. The bars and the floor shimmer with a fine later of frost from the moisture in the air. Anko approaches carefully, unties the seal from the bars, and then lefts her legs and kicks with all her strength. 

The bar she kicks breaks with a dull snap. A few more kicks creates a space wide enough for Anko to slip through, stepping over the bars she's allowed to drop straight to the floor. It's not very stealthy, but there's no way that the bars breaking wouldn't be heard and Amago had explained very carefully that it would be dangerous and bad to touch the frozen metal with bare hands. 

The kicking really doesn't doing anything good for Anko's ankle, but it's fine. It's not _broken_. She can just grit her teeth through it. 

Standing in the narrow hall between cells, Anko stops outside of Amago's cell and looks in. 

Amago is younger than Anko imagined she'd be and has her hands shackled behind her back, which explains why the fabric with the seal on it was pushed into Anko's cell by a thin, wavering chakra string. It also means that the seal must have been drawn via chakra manipulation which is a level of control that _Anko_ sure doesn't have. 

Yeah, this is still stupidly dangerous, but Anko is doing it. She wraps the seal around the bars to Amago's cell — "It will be stable for at least two uses," Amago had promised, whatever "stable" means — and backs up down the narrow, cell-lined corridor before she primes and activates the seal again. The cool air washes over her and the bars break just as easily as before, and then... Anko is faced with the problem of the shackles. 

"You aren't maybe just... pretending to not be able to get out of those, right?" Anko checks. That would be so useful. 

Amago grins at her, a surprisingly easy, personable expression. "Sorry," she says. "It's the real deal. But the amateur who searched me missed the ninja wire on my braid." 

Anko thinks that Amago means worked into her braid, the kind of thing kunoichi use to make grabbing their hair a bad idea, but then Amago tosses her head to swing her long braid over her shoulder and when Anko picks it up... she sees that Amago meant the ninja wire _used to fasten her braid_. 

It's only about four inches long, but Anko unwraps it and then studies it. "My lockpicking skills are pretty good, I guess," she says doubtfully. The wire is curved and kinked and worn. There are already footsteps coming down the hall, and Anko can't help but glance in their direction. It would really suck to get out of her cell only to die in Amago's cell. 

"I just need you to hand it to me," Amago says, "and then you can go." 

Amago is no one to her. Some foreign ninja — probably Kiri, with a name like that and the seal. Anko drops the wire into Amago's hands and leaves. 

* * *

"Anko?" Aoba mumbles when someone leans over him, their hands on him before he's even fully awake. The entire time he's been laid out on this table he's been thinking of — hoping for — Mitarashi Anko, her blood high and triumph in her eyes. Aoba loves the way she looks when she knows she's won, when victory is in her grasp, when she's killing their enemies left and right. 

He knows she couldn't possibly rescue him. But he wants it. He wants her. 

"Sorry," says the stranger, her voice low and hushed and absolutely, undeniably _not_ Mitarashi Anko. 

Aoba bites back a sound that might have become a sob if he'd let it fully form, and tells himself it's only because the kunoichi leaning over him has jostled his broken arm. 

Bumping into his arm proceeds into cutting the straps holding him down to the table. "Ah... this is bad, huh?" the kunoichi says sympathetically, and then her hands are back on his arm, but this time with the cool prickle of a diagnostic jutsu, exactly the same as Aoba would feel at the Konoha hospital. She hisses sympathetically at what she finds, and withdraws her hands to quickly undo the rest of the straps holding Aoba down. 

It doesn't escape Aoba's notice that she's careful, now, like he might break. 

"Yamashiro-san I don't have time to heal you," the kunoichi says. "Can you move your fingers on either hand?" 

Aoba twitches the fingers on his other hand, and hears his rescuer sigh with relief. 

"Okay." The kunoichi says. "Okay, this is going to work." 

Aoba doesn't have any strength left to fight anything except attempts to pry information out of him, so he lets her guide his fingers into one half of a rat seat and then press their hands together. If this is a mental intrusion, something meant to crack his brain open the way the Yamanaka would, Aoba was taught how to resist that. If this is just more torture, then it's fine. Everything already hurts. 

"It's a partner jutsu," the kunoichi says. Her chakra brushes against his fingertips, but goes no further. "You have to put chakra into it, too. Even just a little." 

He'll do nothing of the sort, he's thinking, but when he tries to pull his hand away, it won't move at all. He can't even let gravity take over and flop ot back to the table. Aoba's breath hitches — he's unsure what's happening, but he doesn't like it. 

Aoba's fingers open and close, carefully, the exact range of motion he'd used to show the kunoichi he could move his fingers. Aoba studies her face. 

Her mouth is set, determined, and something about her is familiar, a face he can't remember but should definitely know. "I can't explain," she says, "but I'm a Nara, and I'm going to get you out. I sprung Mitarashi-san already. Yamashiro-san, I _can't_ leave you behind, so I need you to cooperate." 

It isn't a good idea. 

It is, in fact, probably a bad idea. 

If this is a trick by his captives, Aoba doesn't have the energy to play that kind of game with any competence. If the jutsu is trying to access his memories directly, using a partner jutsu with this kunoichi is only going to help her. 

If this is really a rescue, they should be exchanging key phrases to properly identify each other as allies under no coercion. In fact, Aoba would do that right now... if he could get his head to stop swimming and focus on passcodes he should know by heart. 

The girl is familiar. 

She's definitely using Nara techniques. 

When she puts their hands together again in the rat seal, Aoba feeds chakra into the jutsu alongside her and is abruptly and completely swept away. The room disappears. The pain disappeared. Everything disappears except for her chakra, which feels like it's caught him in a net and is dragging him along at speed. 

* * *

When they're corporeal again, Anko is there. She jumps to her feet, ready to fight, while Aoba tries to keep from shouting at the suddenly rush of pain and other sensations. They're shoved into some barely-big enough cave, the only entrance a thin crevice that Anko has clearly had to trap with only the most basic of supplies. 

"Surprise," the kunoichi says. 

"You!" Anko exclaims. And then — "_Aoba._" She seems to disregard Amago as a threat completely, instead dropping to her knees next to Aoba, hands briskly assessing his injuries and coming to a very simple conclusion: "Shit." 

The kunoichi kneels on the other side. "I can patch him up enough for you to get home," the kunoichi promises. 

They'll have to accept her help because there's no way Anko would be able to transport him in his current state, but Anko isn't stupid. Of course the generosity makes her suspicious. She asks the kunoichi why. 

In the low light of the cave, Aoba can see the kunoichi shrug in response. "You needed help," she says. 

"She's a Nara," Aoba grits out. It's the only information he has, and it might be worthless, but if Anko needs it then Anko should have it. 

Anko immediately rounds on the kunoichi and rattles off one of the pass phrases that Aoba couldn't remember before. 

The kunoichi is silent for a moment. 

"Okay, I don't know that one," the kunoichi says, even though it had been a low-level pass phrase. Even genin should know it. "I'm going to take out a bingo book and hand it to you, and you're going to turn to page 23." 

The book appears in the kunoichi's hand. 

Anko takes it, which Aoba hates — she's only doing it because trusting this kunoichi is her best chance to save him. She shouldn't stick her neck out like that. She should go home. Aoba had been so, so happy to think that she had gone home. He'd just wanted her to be safe. 

He can't stay conscious long enough for Anko to finish reading. 

* * *

They're alone when he wakes up. He feels much less like he's about to die. His head is resting on Anko's lap and she's idling playing with his hair, frowning at nothing in particular. 

"The kunoichi?" Aoba asks first. 

Anko waves vaguely. "Had other things to do. Patched you up, apparently." 

"Did they hurt you?" Aoba asks second. And then, "Did _she_ hurt you?" 

"No." Anko's hand leaves his hair, retrieves the book. The angle of the sun, sunk lower in the sky, lets more light in now. He can see that it's a bingo book. "This," Anko says. She shakes the book. "This is from the fucking future. Can you believe that shit?" 

"It's fake," Aoba says immediately. 

Anko flips to what must be page 23, and turns the book so Aoba can see the picture and squint at the small text. "I'm a jōnin. I have _students_, and they're not even junky civilian-born brats no one cares about. Who'd make that up? And—" She taps the 'known jutsu' section. "_And_, it lists a jutsu I just started working on. A jutsu whose name I haven't told anyone. And she knew all kinds of shit, too. I quizzed her good." 

"Oh," Aoba says, huffing out a breath that hurts much less than it would have before he passed out and receive medical attention. "It... must have a lot of information?" 

"You bet it does," Anko says. She flips through the book, to the missing-nin section. There are notes all over the pages. "We have a lot of work to do." 


End file.
